Fifty Shades of Blue
by RaptorAssassin
Summary: Sordid tales of eroticism from the darkest corners of the galaxy, hot from the most degenerate pages of Fornax. It's pretty much Caligula, you guys. But with aliens. Hot aliens. That are hot. If you're uncomfortable than I'm doing it right. Rated MA for NSFW xenophilic blasphemies that will forever destroy your headcanon. Updated not so regularly. Comic relief from my serious fic.
1. Krogasm

Chapter 1: Krogasm

He was a saucy little bitch.

The thing about Krogans is that machismo is so ingrained in their culture, that everyone knows what really goes on when one of their own goes to see the Asari consort – but nobody dares to say anything, because, you know, man stuff. Sheathed in glossy plastic like some kind of sexy blue popsicle, her heels clicked against the glassy floor shone to perfection by her eagerest Salarian sissy maid.

She approached him; taught, nubile. Her breasts…were awesome.

Quivering in anticipation most unmasculine, the Krogan, spread out like doughy soft bitch-like pizza dough on a Saint Andrew's Cross, shivered in delight as she sauntered up to him, cat of nine tails in one hand, a saliva and gin soaked Newport dangling from her lips.

Glimmering.

With.

An.

Ember.

That.

Burned.

Like.

The.

Raging.

Inferno.

Of his dick.

His tiny, chode-like dick.

"Oh Sha'ira, please don't hurt me." He crooned, while desperately trying to shake his bindings to free himself, but not really. She was expensive. Fuckin' waiting lists.

"Speak when spoken to, you saucy little bitch. What is your name?"

"Kargesh."

"Kargesh, _what?_" She snarled, snaking her head to the side, impetuously tapping the whip against her hand, wrought with massive fake acrylic corn-chip tip nails. Like some kind giant sexy bird…. Anyway.

"Kargesh, Mistress." He whimpered.

"Kargesh. That's a bitch name. What clan are you from, Kargesh?"

"Urdnot." He murmured, looking down to the floor, but with all the not so hidden anticipation of a young boy at Christmas.

"Urdnot's a bitch clan," She said, bored; pacing back and forth, making great theatrics of her stilettos rapping across the marble. Suddenly she turned, brandishing a tawdrily artificial talon and jabbing it into his flabby pectoral, _"You belong to me, now." _

A sound eeked out from deep within him, like really deep, like a pyjak caught in an airlock. On a freighter. A really big one. Turian, I think.

With absolute sadism, because that's hot if a chick doing it, not a dude, because dudes are gross in porn, everyone knows that, she smashed the lit cherry of the menthol on his derpy little tail, because why do they have those anyways? What purpose does that serve? They're not even cool. Krogans are supposed to be cool. Wrex is cool.

He howled in agony. Like a lot.

"UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGFHHFGHFHFHFH FGGHGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHH!"

She snapped, "YOUR NAME IS NOW CLOWN BABY! SAY IT!"

"_My name is Clown Baby!"_

"_AGAIN!"_

"_MY NAME IS CLOWN BABY!"_

"_WHAT'S YOUR CLAN, CLOWN BABY!?"_

His glittery little anime eyes grew wide, desperately searching the room for an answer, but there was none to be found strewn amidst the garish carnival of massive technicolor alien dildos and menacing intergalactic bondage gear.

"_I-I don't know!"_

Sha'ira backhanded him with the handle of the whip, sending stars across his eyes that scintillated with all the purple prose of a far too serious and overly pensive Shakarian romance.

"YOUR CLAN IS SHA'IRA! SAY IT!"

"_My clan is Sha'ira!"_

"REPEAT! MY CLAN IS SHA'IRA AND I HAVE NO KRANNT!"

He looked to her, pathetic, blubbering, _"No Mistress! Don't make me say it!"_

She lashed the nine tails across his quivering balls, immune to his bestial howls, "Say it or I'LL CUT ALL FOUR OF YOUR BALLS OFF AND SELL THEM TO ANOTHER KROGAN! One more _worthy_ than you!"

He jeered, kitten-like, eyes snapping closed in literal terror. Literally. He was terrified.

"My….clan!"

"SAY IT!" She lashed the tails across his fatty chest again, with all the remorselessness of a thresher maw. But a sexy one. With awesome tits.

"MY CLAN! IS…..SHA'IRA!"

"And you _what, Clown Baby!?"_

"_AND I HAVE NOOOO KRAAAANNNTT!"_

"Now say it all together." She hissed, eyes narrowing, taking a drag from her Newport, sifting the alluring, extremely sexy vapors through her nostrils.

He shuddered, crying a like saucy little bitch; big, sloppy Krogan tears the size of gumdrops raining in a terribly overdramatic tempest on his lamentable little boner.

"My name…is…Clown…_Baby_. My clan….is Sha'ira…..And….._And….I have no krannt…."_

"_That is correct, Clown Baby." _ She sneered in a sexy low whisper. That was both low. And sexy.

"…And I have a _surprise_ for you, you kranntless little faggot."

She snapped her fingers. And completely out of nowhere, because really, where was he hiding the whole time, the slenderest little twink of a Salarian – her favorite and prized sissy maid – pranced out in the cutest little maid costume and gave a delicate curtsy.

"Yes, Mistress Sha'ira!" He piped, chipper to please, as always.

Knowing to remain bowed low for her, she carelessly put her cigarette out in the dip between his silly lopsided little horns.

"Fetch the personal effects of this bitch, slave."

He clapped his waifish wee hands together in glee, scurrying off to gather the parcel of armor and belongings he had folded so neatly just moments before. Teetering back in his adorable little shoes, burdened by the weight of the Krogan's heavy armor, because really, he was a tiny twink, he knelt again in his place besides his mistress, who was so kind to scratch her pet behind the horns.

The Krogan watched, anxiety filling him like a jelly donut filled with a lot of jelly, as she took the longest, vampish drag of her smoke – but seriously, like where does she keep getting them from, because she's definitely put it out like four times already – as she kicked the pile of possessions over and rooted through it carelessly with the pointed toe of her stiletto. Something gleaming caught her eye, and she raised her brow as she snapped her fingers together, signaling for the maid to fetch it for her.

It was.

_The fish._

The Krogan's heart sank into the darkest abyss imaginable, a place darker than the darkest dark times infinity. TIMES INFINITY. Bad things live there.

"_What's this?"_ She asked impetuously, holding the little baggy – like one of those baggies you get at the carnival when you win at ski-ball, and you're just happy you actually won something, because really, you just wasted twenty bucks on the ring toss to look like a man and win one of those three foot Gumby's for your girlfriend, but you didn't, which is lame, so here's this stupid fish woman. Get off my back.

"B…b-but C-C-Commander _Shepard gave me that fish! It came from the Presidium!"_

Giving absolutely zero fucks, she coldly opened her thumb and index finger.

The bag smashed onto the floor.

"NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOO!"

With all the glacial slowness of a Mass Effect 1 elevator, she put her face to his, dangerously controlled and level, and whispered, the menthol and gin in a kaleidoscope of sensuous odors on her breath,

"_Commander Shepard is dead. And there are no fish on the Presidium."_

Never blinking or removing her flaming eyes from his, for even a single moment, like seriously, I feel like these people stare at each other a lot without blinking in this chick's stories, she smashed her heel onto the bag.

Puncturing.

The.

Plastic.

He cried and cried and also cried some more, like a stupid overly sensitive Drell. Jesus Christ, get over it already. We get it, you're dark and sensitive, and we're supposed to fall in love with you. We know you're fucking dying, can we get on with the pwning please? Like seriously, my gamerscore is way too low as of late. Borderlands 2 comes out soon, and I'm tired of your unmanly whining just to get those extra gamer points. Real men don't cry. Turn in your man card.

"Quit crying, or I'm going to fuck the bitch out of you."

He only wailed harder. Pretty much on purpose, because he's into this. Just don't tell the other guys. Because, you know.

Man stuff.

Out of the shadows slinked three of the hottest, like really hot, of Sha'ira's acolytes, dressed in whorish catsuits. Everybody knows Asari are all just really flagrant whores. Total whores.

The Krogan's eyes widened, _"What are you going to do with me, Mistress?" _

He had a pretty good idea, but he just liked asking.

"We're going to rape you. Until the room stinks."

"_Oh please don't Mistress_!" He cried with a desperately veiled smile of glee.

"Oh yes, Clown Baby. _But first you must suffer."_

Sha'ira clicked her fingers once again; the dainty little Salarian perked up like a Meer cat.

"Maid…Get rid of this mess."

With all the unbridled joy of a Volus winning the bid on a used, still sweaty Quarian envirosuit pilfered from a young girl on her first Pilgrimage, the sissy maid lapped up the spilled dirty fish water off the floor with his eager little tongue and began to devour the still flopping fish, bag and all.

Like a goat.

His eager eyes gleaming at the sight of the reward, which went down in one fell swoop. The Krogan's heart went with it, dissolved in agony – he was going to eat that fish. And he wasn't going to share it with his friend, because fuck him. He didn't believe him, anyway.

Meanwhile the acolytes had been preparing; helping each other adorn themselves with a litany of freakish Krogan strap-on dongs. Like… Really huge ones. Uncomfortably huge. There was getting to be a lot of tube sausage in the room. But it's ok, because it's Asari. And Asari are hot.

"No, please don't!" He cried, falling helplessly to the floor, but not really, as he was unbound, leashed, and dragged across the floor on all fours.

"Silence, slave. The harder you whimper, the harder we'll pound you."

He cried out again; _"Please don't!"_

She shook her head in a well orchestrated feign of anger as she forced a laughably large Krogan-sized ball gag into his eager mouth.

What happened next was really gross. I mean really gross. They raped him, but not really because he was willing, so none of you cry 'non-con', for 6,000 credits an hour. He got his money's worth. Somewhat. Terrible things happened in that room. Which stank.

Sha'ira, taking a long swig of her Beefeater, because she was classy as fuck, and she needed a drink anyways because Krogan's are always a veritable shit storm of repressed emotions beneath their alpha male facades, she kicked his clothes over him, collapsed upon her floor, before handing the bottle off to her maid, who wasn't really impressed, because he had seen far worse.

"When…will…."

He looked at her longingly as she just sort of stared at him, checking her omnitool for messages and coupons.

"…I see you again?"

"Waiting list is six months."

"But…But…"

"No 'buts'. Six months."

"But I can pay!"

"Don't care, Clown Baby. Make sure you shower before you leave. You smell like rubber and bitch."

"_But Sha'ira, when will we meld?"_

She clicked through her exmail blithely, while the Krogan, still unable to stand, basked on the floor; consummate in the afterglow of his rare feeling of vulnerability. Because Krogans are vulnerable too. Just don't tell the other guys.

Because, you know.

Man stuff.

"Yeah, I don't know. Six months. Make sure you tell your friends we had sex."

"Of…course…"

"I mean, really brag about it. Feel free to get ridiculous. Write in to Fornax. That'll keep the door spinning."

"Anything…you desire…_I… love you_…"

"Sure. Me too. Whatever. Six months, same time. Cash. Make sure you schedule it in with the receptionist. No rain checks.

And she walked out, completely bored; yet still somewhat amazed she had gotten him to respond to 'Clown Baby'.

Fucking Krogans.

* * *

Author's Note:

_You're welcome._


	2. Garrus Vakarian: An Erotic Life

Chapter 2: _Garrus Vakarian: An Erotic Life _

_Dear Fornax,_

A wise man once said, you've got to live fast.

Because death…

(dramatic pause)

_Comes early._

That man was James Dean, and I, gentlemen, am the Turian James Dean.

Yes, I've seen the vids, and I must say, we share an indisputable resemblance.

Steely blue eyes. The swarthy, thousand-yard stare of a man who has had (Redacted: 'several') Redacted: 'a thousand')) _millions_ of women. This is a man of _action_, of _passion_. He is _high speed_ and _low drag;_ he's an _interplanetary missile of__ unadulterated badass cut from the hardest stone of masculine vigor. _He's the kind of man that sets down his Old Fashioned, looks a woman straight in the eye, and says, Sweetheart…_I never drink alone._ This is a man who has no time for cuddling, pillow talk, or sixteen hour Hanar readings of Hamlet.

No.

Where other men are but arc pistols, he _is a Thanix Canon._

Ladies, he's got important things to do, and the Universe isn't going to (Redacted: 'calibrate') _save itself_. So, off he dashes before she wakes to gloriously embark on another glorious adventure, because he is a man of intergalactic mystery, and no I don't sign autographs but yes..._  
_

_You can touch my gun.  
_

Because life is short, gentleman, but massive, unhindered firepower, is forever.

You know a lot of people like to ask me about my (Insert: _'LEGENDARY'_) conquests on the battlefield, and just between us, looking back on it all, I would be lying if I didn't say, with no ego, _that I am the most dangerous man in the Universe._ But tonight my friends, allow this hardened pillar of untamed libido to educate you _not just_ on my magnificent, dare I say, _Herculean_ victories against a quaint type of enemy colloquially referred to as, oh I don't know, _The Reapers_, but my more interesting, (if you can stomach that, _nerds_) triumphs in the bedroom.

You know, women _love_ scars, and I've got more than a few of my own. Hundreds, by my last conservative estimate. A woman mentioned once to me that my scars were fading, and I looked her _dead in the _(Redacted: 'nipple')_ eye_ _and told her that for her, I would go out and get all new ones._

Worked like a charm. What can I say?

They love my danger. My roguish majesty.

How did I get this scar, you ask? I took a rocket…

_To the face._

The.

_Face…_

_Sorry about your girlfriend by the way. She knows what I'm talking about. Go on, ask her.  
_

What can I say? It's a curse. I didn't ask for these epic powers of sexual bewitchment - they merely grace me as just another side effect of the blinding aura of renegade, animal carnality that defines my way of life. They find me irresistible. Look at me. Go on. Type the name 'Garrus Vakarian' into your search bar _right now, _expand that bad boy up to 1440x900p, pour yourself a glass of cognac, and look at me.

Just look.

Look deeply into the sexual chasm of my visor.

Go ahead. Relax. _No one's home._ _It's just you, me, and your mouse hand. _

_I hope your're ambidextrous.  
_

It's ok… _It's natural. _

_Baby. It's going to take more than a billion light years and a laptop screen to come between this__ cross-species liaison._

Let the icy glow of that visor hasten you to the (Redacted: 'oppressively desolate') _warm, vibrating_ depths of the Battery. Close your eyes…Now you're imagining this in a sexy Turian voice, pouring in your ear _like something warm that pours_. I'm there, standing beside you, _reveling… luxuriating_ in the erotic splendor of your (Redacted: 'awesome rack') radiant hair and supportive waist. You like that _phlange_, don't you?

_Exotic._

_ Raw._

You know, I noticed when you took me on all those missions. _I liked that._ I liked that you worked so…_hard _for that Turian Ally achievement. What, you think I wouldn't notice?

Kitten. _Those were the 20 sweetest gamer points ever earned._

But you know…there's a such thing as working too hard. So, (Redacted: '_Siha,_ (fuck you Thane)') _beautiful_, _let me (Redacted: '__stagger in half wasted from nerves and hope you have the gargantuan stockpile of lubricant and antihistamines for this to be even remotely feasible') __do the work for you. Lay back, close your eyes_…_(Redacted: 'try not to cut yourself on my face'_.)..._and girl, let's make First Contact._

And that, _gentlemen_, is how it's done.

And now that I have finished giving you all _my foolproof advice_, I will regale you, loyal readers, with a sordid little tale of the sweetest piece of heart shaped, ginger ass I ever plowed.

* * *

It was a long day at C-Sec.

The coffee was cold, the work dragged on, and my inseam was sweltering.

Ten hour shifts of doing nothing but staring at taught, nude Asari body scans as they pass through immigration _does things to a man._ And so I found myself back at my sprawling (palatial if you will) corner office at the end of my shift with nothing to keep me company but a half-finished bottle of whiskey and a well leafed-through copy of _yours truly. _The edition, if my memory serves me correctly, was '_Asari Commandos 6: Erotic Biotics'  
_

And then, there she was.

She was tall for her species. A lethal little honey pot of red hair and come-hither eyes. She had lips, hips, and more curves than a Turian Fighter.

_"Garrus Vakarian?" _She asked in her sultry voice, with a look that said: _Fuck me Garrus, I'm a Turian addict...and I'm jonesing to be calibrated. _

_"That'd be me,"_ Said I, feigning disinterest, taking a manly swig of whiskey from my awesome C-Sec glass (It says, "Best Investigator Ever". They gave it to me when I shot Saren Arterius in the face after taking down ten reapers with one round _on my lunch break)_ while boredly gazing at the tangle of sweaty blue limbs in the centerfold.

_"Well, Garrus, perhaps you can help me find someone...Ever hear the name, Thane Krios?"_ She said, swaggering that badass dreadnought of a rack over to lean across my desk in the dirtiest little excuse for an Alliance uniform I've ever seen; her eyes fixed on the suggestive size of my frill the time. And yes, _ladies_, that length does correspond to something else. And you better believe that tight little strawberry drive core of hers was about to learn that lesson _firsthand_.

"_I know Krios." _I said, flicking my eyes into the smoulder slits of hers, "_I've been trying to catch that slippery green twink-fucker for years. There's just one problem with your plan, sweetheart..."_

I released the full impact of my ocular confirmation of her hotness. I think she came right there.

_"I work alone."_

_"Sweetheart?" _She asked in that levo-chocolate voice, leaning closer, that crimson brow of hers arcing high over her vampish, enticed gaze, _"Don't you know who I am?" _

_"Of course I do...Commander Shepard. I make it a personal goal to know the names of all the angels that fall from heaven into my office."  
_

_"You're smooth, Vakarian."  
_

_"I'm so smooth. You know, I don't have plates everywhere."  
_

_"Mmm...you look like a sexy blue kitty. Do you purr, Vakarian?"_

_"Only when I'm aroused."  
_

_"Well Garrus...you're purring."  
_

_"Then stroke me and maybe I'll let you scratch me behind the frill."  
_

In a tirade of sexual wantonness, she threw herself over my desk and spread her legs. I had scarcely a minute to sweep the effects from my expensive, _titanium_ desk. It was littered with a menagerie of my masculine interests: alcohol, condoms (just kidding, men, _Garrus Vakarian rides bareback_) rifles and cool ranch Doritos..._Because they're cool._ I only had a second to act gentlemen, but I succeeded_ because success is my concubine._

_S_hepard was a depraved whore; a russet hellcat of uninhibited lasciviousness that begged me, no, _implored me _to tame the carnal wilderness of her savage, steaming nethers.

_"So," _I asked, as I tore off her ass-hugging miniskirt - that vulgar mockery of an Alliance uniform strapped to her hips tighter than the vacuum seal on an airlock,

_"Tell me Shepard...are you a natural red-head?"_

She arched her back, tossed back that fiery hair of hers, looked into my eyes and said,

_"That's confidential information, Officer Vakarian. I think you'll need to interrogate me, first. And I'm not gonna go down easy."  
_

I tore open that slutty excuse for an Alliance shirt, exposing her latex bra, garishly emblazoned with the N7 logo. Glistening. Taught.

_"You're already on the desk, firecracker, and Citadel Security has ways of making you talk."  
_

_"Goddamn Garrus, you're so dangerous."_

_"I break all the rules. Killing is an art...and I am the master."  
_

Truer words have never been spoken.

_"My god, you're such a rebel. You're making me get all renegade inside."  
_

_"Then baby..."_

I slid my colossal, relentless erection against her creamy freckled thigh. She gasped in wonder, _in shock,_ at its size._  
_

_"Let's make some bad decisions."_

I tore into her like a Krogan to a barfight. I shredded through the pathetic latex barrier of her slutty little g-string and ripped it with abandon to the floor.

_"Shepard. You've been around. Have you ever heard of...the Turian Shocker?"_

_"Why no, Garrus. I am not nearly that giant and gaping of a tart."_

_"Don't you lie to me, Commander. I know a galactic whore when I see one."_

_"I take offense to that Vakarian, but who better to educate me on the erotic subtleties of interspecies coitus. You are..." _Her eyes traveled lasciviously up the striking, mighty ridges of my locked and loaded cock, _"...Clearly an expert in this field."  
_

_"Fun fact, Shepard, on Palaven, I hold the title of Expert Pleasure Adviser. And Shepard, forgive the insubordination, but this vigilante stallion has an order for you. Come fast and come hard, but don't you dare think that I'm finished with you. It would be an awfully lonely office you died from physical exhaustion."  
_

_"Goddamn your irresistible seductions, Garrus Vakarian, now fist me like a thresher maw!"  
_

I'm sure you can do an image search of my hands and get a pretty good idea of what happened next.

Scoped and dropped, gentlemen. _Scoped and dropped.  
_

She came in exactly three seconds and when she did, she shrieked like a Pyjak caught in the airlock of a Turian freighter and squirted sixteen feet into the air. Yes, my office is that big, and yes, that really happened. I'm a fucking pro.

_"Oh Garrus, you are such a man!"_

_"I am, baby, but I'm aaaaaallll Turian."_

_"Damn, I didn't think anybody actually did the shocker, but holy-fucking-bitch-tits that was far beyond mere mortal levels of amazing! Garrus, you're a sexual tyrannosaur of literally epic proportions, and although that was the most mind blowing, Earth-shattering orgasm of my life, dear God, I need more!"  
_

_"You wanna see Earth shattering? I'll show you Earth shattering. I'm going to split you open like a Collector particle beam through hot butter."  
_

_"Oh my god! Yes! YES!"  
_

And you bet your ass I did. I so did. _Complete and total victory, it's the Turian way._ I flipped her onto her bare shoulders, grabbed her mile long, silky stocking-covered legs, threw those combat boots back and tossed her into a vicious pile-driver until I got bored with the position, brushed her off me, let her beg for more, and then had my way with that sweet, freckled unkempt firebush again, and again, AND AGAIN. For hours. She couldn't get enough of me. She was so depraved and dirty, I was almost embarrassed for her, but there was a silver lining there, gentlemen, and I'm not just talking about my foreskin.

_Finally._ A woman with an erotic stamina to match my own.

_I was beginning to like this Shepard tart.  
_

_"Garrus I'm exhausted far beyond all sensible expectations, but I can't get enough of your titanic Turian meat-monster! Dear God, my rabid pussy knows no bounds! I need it! I need more!"_

_"Damn you, galactic whore of unprecedented whore-lust! I am but one Turian!"  
_

_"Oh but please Garrus, please! If you can calibrate a Thanix Canon with a correlation coefficient of 99.99999999% you can do anything!"  
_

_"It's true! I can! Unhand my beastly cock, woman! And let me call in my vast consortium of C-Sec bros and we will put the law in you!"  
_

_"Dear God, yes! A C-Sec Turian gangbang! Just what I always wanted! Santa is real, after all! I know you must be the most popular guy in the precinct! The raging bushfire of my loins will be degraded and objectified to my whorish heart's content! And more! And I'm totally ok with that! Anal too!"  
_

_"Ha! As if you had a choice!"  
_

You know, there was an unwritten rule in the office. They bring in the donuts.

And I bring in the pussy.

A few minutes later, I had her bent over my massive, awesome desk that all the other guys are jealous of when no less than seven of my closest bros showed up at my door, while I was effortlessly plowing her with the fist of an angry god. Chellick, wide-eyed, was the first to enter the scene, followed up by a gaggle of the other, lesser men.

_"Holy shit, Vakarian! Must you constantly insult us with the ferocious hurricane that is your man-lust!? And damn, that woman is a whore! Look how well she takes it! Again, just damn!" _

_"Correction, Officer! A galactic whore! And though the regal majesty of my cock-storm may be intimidating, I assure you, there's enough to go around. This voracious little xenophile has a taste for Turian!"  
_

_"Awesome! We brought donuts!"  
_

_"Awesome!"  
_

And so, dear readers, I passed that galactic whore around like the Turian plague, and oh, we did our best to inoculate her, but damn was that fine piece of dextro loving cherrybomb insatiable. It got to the point where I had to just sit back with the donuts and call out orders so that my crack team of alien pussy infiltrators could quell the furious rampage that was her ravenous, screaming snatch.

_"You! Taker her left flank! And you, bring her up from the rear! Don't you dare hesitate, you heedless cowards, this battle must be won at all costs! For Palaven!"_

Goddamn, I'm an awesome leader.

_"But Garrus, I can't hold out much longer! And you're just sitting there, eating our donuts!"_

_"Do not question me, whelp! I didn't singlehandedly falcon punch Sovereign in the face and thus win the hearts of millions to be spoken to with such flagrant discourtesy!"_

_"I'm sorry, sir!"_

_"Damn right you are! Now why the fuck is there jelly in these donuts!? I despise jelly! Jelly is for bitches! Now, remove yourself from her, and I will show you how it's done!"_

I tore across the room, threw the donut in the hapless rookie's face, grabbed Shepard from the literal clusterfuck of writhing limbs and Turian cocks, grabbed her by her sodden, cum-soaked hair and proceeded to fuck her with all the unleashed rage of a man who has bitten into a jelly donut and sorely, sorely hates them. Her far, _far_ compromised cyclonic barrier was simply no match for the crippling might of my javelin disruptor torpedo. She cried and wailed, flopping about like a ragdoll, throwing her head back with licentious desperation as I blasted her with a final concussive shot of my epic, adamantium dick. She screamed my name somewhere between cries to various deities as she came no less than nineteen consecutive times; the cosmic force of her orgasms literally bringing her to her knees where she fell at my feet, baptized in a sexual awakening the likes of which she had never ever experienced before, and likely, would never again.

The other guys, exhausted and distraught at the disparity between their pathetic attempts at pleasing her and mine, stared on at me with a completely understandable melange of envy and respect. By the looks on their faces, I wasn't so sure we could be bros anymore. But that's ok.

_Because I work alone._

Shepard, meanwhile, lay at my feet, clinging in her unashamed nakedness at my knee exactly like the cover of every eighties album ever. She looked up at me as if seeing for the very first time.

_"My god, Garrus...I have never known such...reach."_

Inwardly, I smiled. _Triumphant. Vainglorious._ Bathed in the glowing aura known only to legendary heroes, I brushed a stalactite of cum encrusted hair out of her eyes, and said to her,

"My sweet, slutty Shepard. _Reach means nothing without flexibility."_

* * *

And that, gentlemen, is how it's done._  
_

And if you are ever in doubt, just remember an old piece of vigilante wisdom I learned in a stint I once had on Omega, passed down from me, Garrus Vakarian, to you.

Never look at the explosion. Simply walk away, with purpose.

Signed,

G. Vakarian

Rebel With a Cause


End file.
